


Bad Blood; It’s All In Good Fun

by Faetality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blind Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Good Chris Argent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality
Summary: The supernatural community has come together with the hunters to talk about a peace treaty. Chris doesn’t expect it to last but there are connections to be made still. A night at a bar does a little more for him than a professional connection.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Deucalion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Bad Blood; It’s All In Good Fun

The hall was filled with people, an easy two hundred bodies winding through the chairs and tables. For all the bodies it should have been crowded, pockets here and there to avoid or join as one pleased. Instead there was a clear line not wrote down the middle, one no one dared to cross. Chris takes a deep breath. 

Six years in the making this meeting had been. A meeting between hunters and the supernatural world in the name of a treaty. Alphas from across the country, selfies, wendigos, Argents, Calaveras, and Lucianos. The tension was heavy and no one needed supernatural senses to feel it. Chris had come to represent the Argent clan. He walks through the crowds, well aware of the eyes talking his every move. 

“Welcome everyone, your attendance here is appreciated. With years of strife in our communities today will be a bright spot in our histories. Thank you.”

Chris spent three hours trying to blend in, he shook hands with anyone willing to offer and did his best to smile each time. Even when the eyes on his back felt like a death sentence. 

Two fights broke out before anyone had a chance to eat more than an appetizer. The first between a hunter whose name Chris hasn’t cared to remember and an emissary of the Dallas pack. The emissary was carried off with a bloodied nose while the hunter had been dragged out the side door before he could taunt any of the wolves. It wasn’t long after that when a Wisconsin wolf snapped another were’s wrist for putting a hand where it didn’t belong. Luckily that had been sorted quickly between alphas. 

By the end of the afternoon he was exhausted. Tired of playing nice and tired of hearing his name in that whispered tone people took work they didn’t care to be overheard. He just wanted somewhere quiet. Of course he finds himself in a bar with too many TVs and not enough lights. There were one or two vaguely familiar faces there but they paid him no mind so he didn’t concern himself with them. No, instead he ordered a stiff drink and tried to make it clear he wanted to be left alone. 

He’s sure he failed at it from the subtle scrape of the barstool being pulled out next to him. He huffs in annoyance but says nothing. 

“I’m sorry, is this seat taken?”

He cuts a glance at the stranger only to freeze. He’s wearing glasses so dark Chris couldn’t hope to catch his eye, a sweater that did nothing to soften the sharpness off his jaw, and one hand still held the white cane that explained the glasses. But what struck Chris most was the familiarity of the man, he’s sure he has met him before. Sure that he was a wolf. 

It doesn’t stop him from saying “Not at all.”

The silence that follows is awkward until Chris swallows that tiny ball of _ something  _ that made him quiet. “I’m Chris.” He moves to offer his hand but stops quickly, ears burning. 

“Deucalion.” Now  _ that  _ was a familiar name. Deucalion, alpha without land, alpha of alphas. But the face doesn’t match the name. “Tired of the politics?”

Chris hums an affirmation. “Come now, it’s only the first day. No one has even tried to kill you yet.”

“Well I guess I should wait for the attempted murder then shouldn’t I.” It comes out more amused than he means it to. The wolf laughs. 

“I don’t think you’ll have to wait too long. So many hunters in one place there’s bound to be blood soon.” That strikes a nerve that Chris doesn’t understand. 

“I don’t think the hunters will be the problem.”

“I disagree.” It’s said so pleasantly, so nonchalantly that he can’t stop the way his glass hits the bar with a harsh thud. 

“Do you?”

Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s the fact he has a week of this ahead of him and his father won’t be there for another three days. Maybe he’s just tired of being alone in hotel rooms. Maybe he just  _ wants.  _

“Well then, what do you say we make the most of the peace while it lasts?” 

Deucalion’s grin is predatory. Chris never has been easy prey.   
  


Deucalion’s hand stays on his shoulder until they’re out of the bar where appearances no longer matter. Once in the open air the hand turns him around and pulls him in for a kiss that is deep and simple. A test or a taste one. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to drive, I don’t have a license.”

It takes every ounce of will he has to keep from shoving the wolf to his knees right there on the pavement. 

“How’d you get then?”

“Walked. I’m blind, not invalid.”

It’s fifteen minutes to the hotel and is a hard thing to make it. More than once Chris considers pulling over- whether to slake the fire in his belly or to toss the bastard on the side of the road and leave him there is unknown. The wolf had a disdain for everything and everyone, human or wolf. It only took ten minutes to learn he was pretentious, five to know he thought himself with the upper hand, and one to know that he wanted to hear him moan. 

“It’s not the Ritz.” 

“It will do.” 

He sends Deucalion into the room first, still unwilling to let him at his back. It doesn’t mean he isn’t willing when said back is pushed against the door and his lips are claimed once more. This time there’s intent behind the action that was missing before. 

“What color are your eyes?” 

“Blue.” 

“And your hair?”

“I- it’s brown? Light brown.”

Deucalion hums and crowds impossibly close. “I bet you’re pretty.” He shoves But the wolf doesn’t move. 

“Are we talking or fucking?”

“How crude.”

Chris loses his shirt and belt in the entry way, pulls Deucalion’s off soon after and runs his hands down his chest. The wolf is defined ana Chris itches to see more. He lets himself be pushed to sit on the bed, hands gripping the alpha’s hips. He starts to undo his fly with Deuc stops him. 

“Not yet, sweetheart.” The endearment makes him feel. 

The way Deucalion sinks to his knees makes him stop breathing. He lifts each foot as the wolf strips him down, when he’s left in nothing at all there is a kiss placed on his knee before he rises again. Hands smooth over his shoulders, push him flat. “Stay.” The touches are firm but exploratory, skirting around the places he wanted them to be. When it gets to be too much; when he gets so impatient he simply can’t take it anymore, Deucalion moves. Strips himself bare. 

From there they move quickly. It’s teeth and lips on skin, snarl when Chris drags nails down the alpha’s back at the same time he sinks blunt teeth into his skin with the intent to mark. 

It’s not wild but it’s hard and Deucalion takes him like he means to keep him. 

He expects the wolf to leave while Chris is sprawled across the bed. Instead he wipes the mess from Chris’ belly and drags him atop the wolf’s chest like a rag doll. “What?”

“I’m not the sort of man to leave in the middle of the night, darling.”

“What if I ask you to?”

“I think I could convince you otherwise.” 

“...maybe in twenty minutes.” 

His laugh is a rumbling thing. 

“If you say.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is marked complete but I plan on adding more chapters as they come, if they come.


End file.
